by BJ Hoff
After she moved on, David said, “Now there’s a woman who would have made an extraordinary mother. A shame, really, that she never had children of her own.”
“I think she makes up for it by taking half the town, in addition to her guests, under her wing,” Gant said. “Folks around here can’t say enough good things about her.”
“Speaking of mothering,” Susan said, “some of our neighbor women have been sewing and collecting clothing for the baby. I plan to bring everything into town tomorrow morning.”
“Not alone—” David put in quickly.
“I won’t be alone, David. I’ll have Rachel and Fannie come with me. We’ll bring some baked goods as well.”
“I could come along,” he said.
“There’s no need. You’re busy, and we’ll manage just fine.” She paused, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t fuss, David.”
Fuss? If she only knew. Truth was he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. Not for a moment. If anything should happen to Susan…
He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought.
“Feel free to come by the shop,” Gant offered. “In fact, maybe I could go with you? I might not feel quite so awkward that way. I confess I don’t know much about paying a visit to a new baby.”
David saw the studying look Susan turned on Gant.
“Why, that’s a good idea, Captain Gant,” she said. “You can help us carry some of our things, and it will give Fannie a chance to say hello to you. She’ll like that.”
David was a little surprised at Susan’s suggestion, but seeing the pleased expression on Gant’s face, he was glad she’d offered it. Of course, it wasn’t only Fannie the captain would be looking forward to seeing.
“Do we need to stop at Rachel’s and pick up Fannie?” David asked as they drove away from town after supper.
“No,” Susan said. “She’s spending the night. She wanted to stay, and Rachel said she could use her help putting some finishing touches on a birdhouse or two in the morning. I want to do some more baking first thing, so I’ll pick them up later. They can help me collect everything from the neighbors and get it packed up.”
“It was kind of you to include Gant in your visit,” he said. “I suppose you saw how pleased he was.”
Susan nodded. “It will be good for Rachel to get out too. She’s still grieving Phoebe. We both are, but I think Rachel tends to go too much inside herself when she’s sad.” She sighed. “I suppose we all have to grieve in our own ways.”
“So Rachel’s still building her birdhouses, is she?”
“Oh, she works hard at it, David. Always putting one together or painting another. She enjoys it.”
He said nothing until they passed over the ravine near the Lape farm. “Too bad things are what they are between her and Gant. They’d so enjoy being together, I think—even working together, what with both of them having a liking for woodworking and building things.”
“Too bad for a lot of reasons,” Susan said quietly. “’Course the bishop doesn’t approve of her building the birdhouses, you know.”
“The bishop doesn’t seem to approve of a lot of things,” David said, his tone sounding unusually sharp. “Including Gant.” He paused, then went on. “I beg to disagree with him there. I’ve always thought Rachel and Gant would be good for each other—and good with each other.”
Susan turned to looked at him, admiring, as she always did, his lean profile, the gentle wave to his silvering hair, and the kindness engraved upon his features. How fortunate she was to be able to talk to David openly, knowing that whatever she told him would go no farther than his ears. Not only was he to be her husband—but he was also her dear friend, indeed had been a good friend long before they ever became engaged.
“Truth is,” she said, “I don’t understand why the bishop wasn’t at least willing to give Captain Gant and Rachel a chance. It seems to me he closed the door on any hope for them awful quick-like.”
When he didn’t answer for a long moment, Susan knew him well enough to realize that he was mulling over what she’d said.
His eventual reply sounded thoughtful, even a little hesitant. “You don’t suppose the bishop’s attitude toward Gant has anything to do with Samuel Beiler, do you?”
“Why on earth would you think that?” she said, puzzled.
He shrugged. “Well, Samuel is a deacon, one of the leaders of the church. If the bishop is aware of his interest in Rachel, wouldn’t it be possible that he might favor him over Gant? Even to the point of making sure he had a ‘clear field,’ so to speak? After all, Samuel was born and raised Amish, has established himself well as a deacon—it might be only natural the bishop would prefer Rachel to marry a Plain man instead of an outsider.”
His words stunned her. “But—that wouldn’t be right. He’s the bishop. Surely he wouldn’t want Rachel to marry a man she’s repeatedly refused.”
“I don’t know that it’s all that unlikely, Susan. Think about it. If you look at it from the bishop’s point of view, Gant is an unknown, an outsider, a total stranger. Why, he’s even originally from another country and entirely separate from the Plain community.”
She stared at him. “But, David—you could be describing yourself.”
He looked at her, smiling a little. “That’s true, dear. But with a big difference: The People have accepted me as a friend and as their physician for years now.” He stopped, then added, “More to the point, Samuel Beiler has never courted you, whereas he’s wanted to marry Rachel for years now.”
Susan looked away, staring at the road as she tried to take in the significance of his words. Surely David was wrong. Would a bishop even think in such a way, much less act in so callous a manner?
“Susan? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She turned to him. “Oh, you didn’t upset me. But really, David, I can’t begin to believe such a thing about the bishop.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be anything malicious on his part. He’d simply want what’s best for Rachel. In his mind Samuel would be the better husband for her.”
Susan studied him. “But if you’re right—why, it would be so unfair!”
“Yes, wouldn’t it?” he said softly. After a moment he added, “Now don’t you be troubling your pretty head the rest of the night with some silly notion of mine. I’m sure you’re right. A bishop should be above that sort of behavior, and I’m sure Bishop Graber is. Forget I ever brought it up.”
Susan found a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s not give it another thought. Best to forget it altogether.”
He reached to squeeze her hand. “Forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I can see how you might think such a thing, especially with us concerned for both Rachel and Captain Gant, what with things as they are. But truly I can’t believe you’re right.”
“As I said, it was just a foolish thought. I confess that I do continue to wish that something could work out for the two of them, though. I suppose when a man’s as happy as I am with you, it’s only natural that he’d want his friend to have a measure of that same kind of happiness.”
Now Susan squeezed his hand. “You and Captain Gant have become good friends, haven’t you? You truly do care about his well-being.”
He nodded. “He’d never admit it, of course, but I think he’s a lonely man. I’d very much like to see something good happen in his life.”
Susan didn’t say so aloud, but she thought she well understood David’s concern for his friend. In truth she, too, would be ever so pleased to see happiness come to Captain Gant.
Especially if it meant happiness for her Rachel as well.
25
A MOMENT OF WONDER
Hopes, fears, prayers, longings, joys and woes—
All yours to hold, O little hands!
LAURENCE BINYON
Rachel hung back at the entrance to Jeremiah’s carpentry shop, feeling out of place and awkward about going in, yet wanting to see him
so much a permanent ache seemed to have moved into her heart.
Fannie, however, displayed no hesitation, tugging on Rachel’s hand to hurry her inside. “I’m so glad Captain Gant is going with us to see the baby, aren’t you, Rachel? Everything is more fun when he’s around!”
Fun had nothing to do with the emotions rioting inside Rachel at the moment, but she managed a smile for her little sister as she followed her and her mother into the shop.
At first she kept her eyes downcast, looking up only when he spoke.
“Well now, this is a big event,” he said, his deep, rich voice rolling over Rachel like a silken wave, shaking whatever calm she had thought to display.
“Three lovely ladies in my poor, humble shop and all at the same time. Keep an eye on the rafters there, Terry, lad—the building may fall at any moment.”
At Fannie’s giggle Rachel looked up. To her relief he didn’t meet her eyes right away but stood, arms crossed over his chest, grinning at her sister.
Rachel hadn’t seen him since Phoebe’s funeral, and her throat went dry at the sight of him. She had all she could do not to gawk like a dummkopf. He wasn’t in his work clothes but had obviously spruced himself up to go calling.
Jeremiah was a handsome man at his worst—and she had seen him at his worst, right after he’d been gunshot—but today he looked ever so appealing in a crisp white shirt and a dark silvery tie. He had even managed to tame his usually mussed curly hair into neatness. The question as to who might have laundered that nice white shirt to its state of starched perfection teased at her mind, but she dismissed it before she could speculate on the answer.
Thankfully her mother stepped up just then and handed him the applesauce cake she’d baked early this morning, still fragrant from the oven. “I thought we’d bring you and Mr. Sawyer something for yourselves, Captain.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widened as he took the cake from her and lifted a corner of the napkin covering the pan. “Oh, my! If that tastes even half as delicious as it looks and smells, Mrs. Kanagy—Susan—” he corrected, “I can’t wait to dig in!”
Mamma turned to Mr. Sawyer then and asked about his wife and baby. In that moment Jeremiah met Rachel’s gaze and held it. The warmth and tenderness that brimmed in his eyes caused her to look quickly away.
As if he’d seen her discomfort, Jeremiah turned his attention to Fannie. “And how might Thunder be doing these days, Miss Fannie?”
“Oh, you should see him, Captain Gant! Mamma says he’s growing like a bear cub and that he’s just as clumsy too! I’ve been training him some, though, and he’s real smart. He catches on ever so fast!”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” He straightened then and said, “Ladies, we can go anytime. Terry, here, is going to mind the shop while we pay a visit to his new daughter. It’s a nice morning, if you’d like to walk.”
“Oh, we have too much to deliver, Captain Gant,” Mamma told him. “I don’t think we could carry everything, not even with all three of us helping.”
“Well then, why don’t I drive your buggy for you? Will we all fit, do you think?”
“Well, if you don’t mind, Captain, I’ll just let you drive the buggy, and the rest of us will walk and enjoy the sunshine. Would that be all right with you?”
“That would be just fine. Whatever you like.”
“I want to go with Captain Gant, Mamma,” said Fannie.
“No, you’ll walk with us, daughter. No sense crowding the captain.”
An indefinable emotion sparked in his eyes, and Rachel wondered if he thought Mamma didn’t want Fannie to ride with him because he was an auslander—an outsider.
Whatever Jeremiah thought, Rachel knew her mother trusted him. She wouldn’t have meant to hurt his feelings. Her resistance to let Fannie go with him more than likely had to do with the way she had sheltered the girl—to a fault Rachel feared—ever since the attack on her sister last winter.
But when Fannie pleaded with her one more time, her mother seemed to change her mind. “Oh, all right. As long as Captain Gant doesn’t mind. But don’t you talk him to death on the way now.”
“It would be my pleasure to have your company,” he said, dipping his head a little to Fannie, whose smile broke wide enough to crack her face.
As Rachel followed her mother out of the store and watched Jeremiah help Fannie into the buggy, then go around to climb in and take the reins, she had all she could do not to wish she might take her little sister’s place beside him.
The realization that even after all this time of separation she still wanted to be close to him hammered her with a fist of guilt. She was ashamed of her weakness, humiliated by her wrong feelings for a man forbidden to her, and disgusted with herself for holding onto even the slightest shred of hope that somehow, at some time, things might change so that they could still be together.
She knew that she should make every effort, do everything she could, to bury that hope once and for all. Yet she sensed that she clung to that last fragile remnant of hope because she knew that if it died, her heart would break beyond all chance of healing and the future that awaited her would be nothing more than a vast, dull wasteland of empty days and abandoned dreams.
To believe such a thing was probably wicked, a violation of her faith itself, and yet the thought of living the rest of her life without love—the love of Jeremiah—seemed to bring her to an impasse where faith and love found it difficult, if not impossible, to meet.
Rachel could feel Jeremiah watching her as she stood in front of the window holding the sweet baby girl, but for once his intense gaze didn’t fluster her. She was too absorbed by the tiny Naomi Fay, the warm bundle in her arms with her soft baby fragrance, to pay much heed to anyone or anything else in the room.
What a wonderful gift a baby was! No matter what else might be wrong in the world, in spite of sadness that lingered and problems that plagued, a baby could bring light and gentle goodness and such peace!
Rachel had long regretted that the Lord God had not given her and Eli babies. It would have meant so much to have had his child to raise and love. She studied the tiny face nearly hidden by the blanket and carefully drew her even closer, breathing in her warm sweetness as she rocked her ever so gently in her arms.
She was the last to hold the precious bundle—except for Jeremiah—and on impulse she went to him now and held the baby out to him. He looked startled, then more than a little leery, as he hesitated. He shook his head, but Rachel could tell he was tempted.
“You’ll hurt Mrs. Sawyer’s feelings if you don’t hold her, at least for a moment,” she murmured, her voice low.
He looked at Rachel and then to the bundle in her arms, took a deep breath, and finally accepted the baby from her. Staring down at little Naomi Fay for a long moment, his startled expression changed to a smile as he walked to the window with her and stood where Rachel had been standing before.
Rachel was totally unprepared for the way the scene across the room affected her. Seeing the tiny girl nearly lost in the security of Jeremiah’s sturdy arms, bundled so carefully against the broadness of his chest, she felt her heart leap.
But it was the expression on his face that was her undoing. The ever so strongly molded features had softened to a look of wonder. He seemed to behold the child in his arms in abject amazement, as if nothing in his world ever could have prepared him for such a miracle as this.
Whatever worries, frustrations, and concerns had creased his craggy features before were now gentled and bespoke an awe and fascination that shook her to the depths. All of a sudden, the solitary man was gone, and in his place stood a man who had glimpsed amazing love and perfection and was, at least for a moment, transformed.
A fierce longing rose up in Rachel, swelling her heart and throat and senses. She could have wept for what they would never have together, this miraculous gift, this blessing they would never share.
And she prayed right then, in that very moment, that somehow the Lord God’s gra
ce would one day fall on Jeremiah and end his loneliness, granting him this joy beyond all joy, this precious gift of incredible love and sweetness.
“Oh, Lord God, even if it cannot be with me, fill his arms and his heart and his life with the wondrous blessing of a family of his own to love and cherish.”
Then she turned away, so neither he nor anyone else in the room would see the unshed tears scalding her eyes.
Too preoccupied to concentrate, Gant said his goodbyes at the boardinghouse, insisting that he would walk back to the shop.
The earlier brightness of the afternoon had faded, the sky darkening with a threat of rain and a rise in wind.
The promise of a rainstorm on the way matched his mood.
He’d seen the way she looked at the Sawyer baby when she held her—the unmistakable expression of longing, the almost holy wonder that settled over her lovely face. It had hit him like a hammer-blow, that look of yearning and the glow that seemed to radiate from somewhere deep within.
In that instant the awareness had washed over him like a tidal wave that Rachel hungered for the same things he did—an end to loneliness, a family, and a home to share with that family. She was meant for those things, meant to love a man and hold a baby in her arms. Not someone else’s baby, but her own.
He wanted—he desperately ached—to be the one to give her those things.
But he wasn’t the one. He’d been told he couldn’t be the one.
He wondered—how many times a day did he wonder—was it God’s will that had closed the door on any chance for them to be together, or was it solely an elderly bishop’s will?
Had he given up too easily? Should he have fought harder, longer? Or by doing so, would he have only made things more difficult for Rachel, more difficult for them both?
He had tried to stay away from her, but every time he thought he was getting strong enough to finally free himself, something seemed to throw them together—and it took only a moment of being close to her to drive the knife of longing into his heart even more deeply than before.